An Imperfect Match
by HecateA
Summary: The trouble with soul marks, as Viktor soon discovers, is that your soulmate doesn't necessarily match with you. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings: **NA

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**Stacked with: **MC4A; Not Commonwealth; Harmony of Souls Eternal; Shipping War; Hogwarts

**Individual Challenge(s): **Hola, Bonjour, Jambo; Durmstrang MC; Gryffindor MC; Seeds; Golden Times; Old Shoes; Themes & Things A (Secrets); Themes & Things B (Risk); Ethnic & Present (Y); Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); In a Flash; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Representation(s): **Soul Mark AU; Professional Quidditch player Viktor Krum

**Bonus challenge(s):** Second Verse (Not a Lamp); Chorus (Tomorrow's Shade)

**Tertiary bonus challenge: **Obscure

**Word Count:** 1704

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_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum (Viktory)

**List (Prompt): **Spring Micro 1 (Soul Mark AU)

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**Hogwarts Submitting Info**

**House:** Ravenclaw

**Assignment:** Assignment #1, Muggle Music, Popular Genres in Music #5 R&B - Write about a break up.

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**An Imperfect Match **

When Viktor had signed his contract with the Bulgarian national team, an incredible amount of emphasis had been placed on the fact that he should not, under any circumstances, gamble. Not about the World Cup, not about a league outside of his home country, not even about a little league Quidditch game between five year olds who could barely fly straight—not even about a game that wasn't Quidditch. _Nothing_. There was to be no gambling. And so it felt keenly unfair that gambling was written into his skin.

When Viktor pulled off his shirt at night, there was an ivy leaf curling over his right breast. The mark had always been on his skin and it always would be. Photographs of him, shirtless and bearing his mark, were plastered all over the press, all around the world. The first time such a photo had been released, the press had shown him mad: _Viktor Krum's right soul mark just identified! Which lucky witch or wizard can claim to be one of the Quidditch star's potential matches? _He had heard crazy stories about fans trying to mutilate their own marks or tattoo replicas of it on their body, claiming to be Viktor's soul mate. It drove him mad.

And then, at the top of his left thigh, was a strange rune he didn't understand. His grandmother had once said it looked like something an Anglo-Saxon mage would have used to cast magic a hundred years ago. She'd offered to read his cards to see what it meant, but Viktor had denied. He didn't _want _to know who his soul mate was, he wanted to find them. So much of his life was laid out for the world to see: he liked the idea that some of it remained hidden, even from himself.

And as it turned out, this particular facet of his life was hidden in the back of the Hogwarts Library, wrapped up in comfortable jumpers or black school robes, topped by a bounty of corkscrew curls.

He'd first realized that the mark on her hand matched the strange, strange rune on his thigh when she'd bumped into him in the hall. She'd been muttering to herself as she went over some notes, and was quite embarrassed about the whole thing. He recognized her because she was friends with Harry Potter, that strange fourth contestant, but he hadn't seen the rune on her hand before. It was an exact match to his.

His mark was on his left side; it meant the person to whom he would give his heart would bear the same.

Her mark was on her right side; it meant someone with that rune would give her their heart.

Viktor swallowed hard. In years of playing Quidditch, in years of dodging the press with more or less success, that rune had always remained hidden. And Viktor resolved that he would keep it that way, as he was formally introduced to Hermione Granger and helped her pick up her books.

Soul marks were a gamble. His grandmother had always told him not to be one of those foolish witches or wizards who assumed that shapes and lines were infinitely powerful.

"They show you options," she explained. "They show you paths that you can walk."

"Two paths," Viktor had said, putting one hand on his chest and one on his leg.

"Two paths," his grandmother had nodded. "So that if one path ends, you can turn back and walk the other."

As the tournament went on, Viktor was increasingly certain that he had found the winning hand. Hermione sought him out without imposing on him, she let him go when he walked away, and she was always happy to see him again. If Viktor sat by her, nervous and thoughtful and distant, that was alright. She had no demands of him, she would simply make sure he was alright and take what he had to give. He supposed that she had learned from having a famous friend to let personhood stand on its own. But he appreciated it, just as he appreciated her laughter or the way she mouthed words as she read or always asked him questions about home and himself. He learned a lot about her too.

She pulled on her curls when she was thinking and chewed her fingernails and tied her school tie in a more elaborate knot than she needed to and always cut up her food in extremely small pieces when she ate and walked at a surprisingly brisk pace. She was attracted to the books with the most broken spines in the library and only relaxed her posture when she was comfortable and tied her shoelaces in double knots.

He knew her as well as he knew the marks on his skin. This is what knowing one's soulmate must feel like.

At the Yule Ball, her dress left her shoulders uncovered for the first time since Viktor had met her. Behind her left shoulder, there was a flurry of dots that might have been a constellation. Her other soul mark. Her other path, as his grandmother would say.

Viktor saw it once or twice while spinning her around, but he didn't worry too much about it. She was choosing to dance with him.

She looked flustered when she came back to him, shaking her head. She held up the front of her dress as she made her way across the dance floor, and the knuckles in her hands were white.

"Are you alright?" Viktor asked.

"I've befriended morons," Hermione said. "I wouldn't want to trouble you with… well, _him. _Let's dance again."

And so they did.

It was during the Second Task, when they were all plunging in and out of the Black Lake, that Viktor registered the rune on the Weasley boy's collarbone. Another flurry of dots.

Whatever they had been fighting about, they had resolved. Hermione was spending more of her spare hours with Ron and Harry again, and while Viktor was happy that their friendship had been mended… he knew how much more it could become. And he hated himself for worrying so much, when

He had a rather good idea after the Third Task.

He was feeling like himself again. He had broken down in the corner of the infirmary, sobbing as the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, had explained to him that he'd been cursed. She had helped him ease a soothing, restorative potion down his throat between sobs.

Fleur had hobbled on her bad leg to come to him, clutching him to her chest and telling him that all was forgiven—this wasn't his fault, the night had taken such a turn…

He was back to himself when Harry finally came into the infirmary, escorted by a redheaded woman, a big black dog, and Ron and Hermione as always. Those two sat together by Harry's side, and Viktor saw Hermione slumping on Ron's shoulder.

He wasn't upset. Everybody needed a shoulder to slump on at the moment and everybody deserved one—whichever one they chose.

He did find a moment to borrow Hermione, however, and talk to her.

"Are you feeling alright?" she said. "They told me you were, that you needed space, which is why I didn't come…"

"You had to wait for Harry to emerge from the maze," Viktor said. "I understand."

Hermione looked relieved.

"I'm so happy you made it out," she said, burrowing against his chest.

"Me too," he said. He didn't feel it, at the moment, but that would come with time. As the events of the night were processed…

Late, he remembered to wrap his hands around her and did so mechanically. He let go eventually and his arms felt as if they were made out of lead.

"Voldemort is back, then?" Viktor said. She winced at the sound of the name.

"Yes," she said. "This is… this is so bad, Viktor."

"I am sorry," Viktor said. He remembered his grandmother's stories about Grindelwald, about the devastation that had ensued… "My country has known such violence. It is a time to stay close to those you love."

Hermione nodded. "It… it is."

Viktor nodded again. "I think Ron is good for you."

She looked surprised.

"I think he reminds you that sometimes you need to breathe. I think he reminds you to stay close to the world instead of getting lost in ideas and details. And he thinks you're quite exceptional, which you are, and which you deserve to remember."

Hermione swallowed.

"We're friends," she said.

"For now," Viktor said. They were quiet for some time. "I am not mad."

Hermione took a deep breath and wrapped her cardigan around herself. He knew that the Hogwarts crest was sewn onto the back. She had yellow and red streaks painted under her eyes. Tonight should have been about celebration; what had they come to instead?

"I think you're right," Hermione says. "I… This war is going to be brutal, Viktor, and I'm going to need to stay close for this one. And Ron… as mad as he drives me sometimes, is my home. He'll stand up for me against anybody for any reason, he'll keep me in check, he'll remind me to react when things aren't right, to grow…"

Her hand rubbed at the back of her left shoulder; where the constellation mark was.

Viktor wondered what would happen if he showed her his rune right then, right there. If maybe he could be this _home _she needed too, if he could show her that he could protect her, keep her grounded….

But that wasn't what these marks were about. They weren't supposed to force anybody's hand, or enable someone to push their way into another's hearts. They were like lanterns, guiding the way. And there was such a thing as a wrong way; a path that led to nowhere… And so Viktor kept his peace.

"I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen," Hermione said. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"I'm not hurt," Viktor said. "I won't be hurt if you are well."

"I'll do my best," Hermione said. "And you will too?"

"I will," he promised.

And his path came to a dead end.


End file.
